Killing Me Softly
by stashhjonas
Summary: After finding out the girl he killed was still alive, Levi Samuels sets foot to Grand Prairies, Texas, to discover Willa Johnson; the girl with dreams, lies, and secrets. Love will spur, and lies will unravel in this twisted love story. Nelena
1. Prologue

**P R O L O G U E**

She mounted her horse in one easy step. The horse huffed, chewing on the carrot she gave her earlier.

With one slight kick to the brown horse's side, they were suddenly riding along with the wind. The two were equivalent to fearless. The wind seemed to blow right through them, like a swift jab in the throat with a knife.

When she stopped in front of the barn gate, a man relatively close to her age, was standing there; an arm leaning against the fence, his head slightly tilted back.

"Some horse you got there," he said in a raspy, yet oddly delicate voice. "He's a real beauty."

"She," she snapped. "The horse. It's a _girl._"

He glanced up at her, patting the blond mane on the horse in delicate strokes. His eyes were oceans of chocolate, swirled like dangerous hurricanes. Something about him was . . . devious—yet in a good way. "And you? What's your name?" he inquired.

She didn't move an inch; she stiffened her position, but didn't twitch or even blink. "You don't need to know that. That's none of your business."

Suddenly, a baby no older than a year old waddled over to her, his arms reaching out, signifying that he wanted to be held. In one swift move, he was set in her arms, and she was off the horse.

"He's adorable," the man complimented, a small grin on his face.

She put an actual smile on her face for a change. "Thank –" She stopped mid-sentence as she and the man watched the baby.

He watched the man curiously, and he reached his arms out, a tiny smile on his face.

She stared at the man – his delicate, fragile eyes searching into the baby boy's; brown on brown. Could she trust him? Would he take her son, and leave, in a blink of an eye?

But she felt . . . connected to him; as if . . . she knew him from somewhere. As if he had a special place in her heart, that was held for him and only him.

It was only a matter of time before the baby in her arms reached out for him. The man, eyeing the girl quickly for approval, scooped the tiny boy into his warmth. "What's his name?" he asked gently, keeping his eyes on his boy—a smile growing in the midst of his irises.

She folded her arms across her chest in admiration. Her son never looked at anyone—but his mother, of course—like that. He was a shy baby, one who rarely wanted to be held by anyone but his mommy. "Nicholas. But we call him Nick," she responded. And then she wondered why she told him that. "Why do you want to know?" she asked quickly.

The man turned to face her slowly, an eyebrow arched. "I was just curious," he said. "Is it a . . . problem that I want to know your baby brother's name?"

She felt her cheeks turn pink almost instantly. "He's not my baby brother. He's my son." She clutched her arms around her body tighter.

"Oh," he whispered. After a moment, he added, "You look . . . really young to be having a child."

Suddenly, she grew angry. Why should he just barge into her life and tell him she was too young to have children? She barely knew him. She didn't even know his name, and yet he was judging her. People really bugged her sometimes.

"What's your name?" she snapped.

He suddenly let the boy out of his arms, letting him walk into the house where they lived. He put his hands in his pockets. "Levi Samuels. Nice to meet you."

Her body froze into a complete shock. The name was so familiar – like spreading peanut butter on the pieces of apples for Nick every morning. His voice was familiar, the same velvety texture she remembered.

She gulped down the large, hard rock forming in the center of her throat as she tried hard to fight back tears. It wasn't working; she turned on her heel and started to walk. She walked until she finally heard the crunching of leaves behind him and they were inside the chicken coop, where she had to get the fresh eggs for the morning's breakfast.

"Why did you walk away? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice so curious, so protective. How could he act like this? It was as if what he did the year before meant _**nothing**_ and was nothing. But to her, it was everything in the world. It was the reason she was living there, the reason she had Nick, the reason she lived a life no one wanted to live.

She grabbed an egg from a nest and placed it into the basket gently, her fingers trembling. "Your name . . . it was just really familiar," she breathed. She turned to face him. As the wind started to blow, she felt the tears on her face drying. Why was she crying? There was nothing left to cry over.

He nodded tightly. "Care to tell me your name?"

She shook her head fiercely. "Why are you here?"

He leaned his arm on the wooden door, moving away as a chicken pecked at his jeans. He ignored it, answering her question: "I'm here to ask you a few . . . questions, if you don't mind."

She didn't answer. She let him continue speaking as she continued to pick more eggs.

"Do you know someone named Lyric Symphony?"

Her body froze. Again. The oxygen left in her body was consumed. She basically stopped breathing in front of this man – this man named Levi Samuels. This man, who took her life away without him realizing. This man, who had no idea what she had gone through. Her chin quivered, but she stopped the tears as fast as she could once she spun around to face him, placing the basket of a dozen eggs on a stool. "I don't know what you're talking about," she snarled, shaking her head as she took her gloves off and walked out of the coop with her basket of eggs.

"Oh, c'mon!" he shouted, running after her to keep up. He observed her, as she dropped the basket of eggs in front of the house door and she walked back into the horses' barn. "Lyric Symphony. She was over national news. Don't you remember, someone tried – and succeeded – to strangle her to death, yet her body was never found? She was supposedly seen last in Grand Prairies, Texas." He smiled. "I believe that's where we are, right now."

She opened the barn door for the horses, who trotted out and into the open field of freshly cut grass. She turned around. "I'm sorry, Mr. Samuels, but I don't recognize that name. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a baby to tend to." She pushed her body past him, and just as she reached the house door, he spoke.

"Just tell me your name, and I'll leave you alone!"

A small sliver of a tear trickled down her face. She wiped it away, glancing behind her shoulder. "Willafred Johnson."


	2. Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter One

_The Past_

**July 2007**

Lyric. The definition of this five-letter word would be: "having the form and musical quality of a song, and especially the character of a songlike outpouring of the poet's own thoughts and feelings, as distinguished from epic and dramatic poetry". A beautiful definition for a word that many composers, musicians, and even some actors and actresses would use.

To Levi Samuels, it was the name of the girl he fell in love with. Lyric Symphony was her name, to be exact. His definition was one of no other—a girl of true beauty, with talents and dreams; one who poured her heart and soul to life and the passion of music, literature, and the people she loved. He could give her more of a descriptive definition, but he knew that was just enough. For the moment, however.

He remembered the exact day he met her – how her hair had blown in her face because of the dramatic effect of the wind; how she blushed a lot when he smiled at her; how she blinked rapidly when he asked for her number. The simplest of things made Levi fall in love with a simple girl like Lyric Symphony.

She wore urban clothing – fringed booties, loose tops, skinny jeans, gladiators, lots of rings on her fingers . . . she looked like a Bohemian girl from the 70s. And yet, she couldn't have looked anymore beautiful on a stormy day in sweats, Ugg boots, her hair piled on her head like a messy mountain, and very little makeup. He loved that about her – no matter what she did, whether it'd be a good or bad thing, it surely made Levi's heart ache more and more for Lyric.

It was a summer night; the sky was calm – the stars snuggled close to the crescent-shaped moon. The beginning of summer had arrived – the buzzing of bees were cuddled close to the pollen on the flowers growing in the gardens; the children were running after the ice cream truck, screaming for it to stop and let them eat ice cream on a hot day; the Spanish landscapers were drying the sweat off their foreheads as the sun beat down on them as they cut the grass of Levi's parents' house.

Lyric mounted up the stoop stairs to see Levi, in hope of him to come outside and get some sun with her. She had hoped to go to the beach with her sister, Melody, but she apparently had other plans. Lyric didn't mind spending time with Levi. In fact, she'd rather much go to the beach with him than with Melody.

Levi answered on the first knock. He had a large smile on his face, and his eyes fell into hers as she took his hands, leading him outside. She walked backwards down the steps, and stopped just to admire his beauty.

Levi was a walking god in Lyric's mind. Everything he did was swift, smooth, and brief – he kept things short and simple, but when it came to the one he loved (meaning, Lyric), he stopped the world for her. He was perfection at its best; the chocolate brown hair, the melting brown eyes, the luscious lips that curled into smirks when he teased her . . . the beauty marks that ran down his cheeks to the nape of his neck that Lyric touched to play connect-the-dots.

"Hey," he said in his gentle, moving voice that made Lyric's knees buckle together. Slowly, his arms coiled slyly around her waist, pulling her body closer to his so he could feel her heart beat against his chest. "I wasn't expecting you till later. Somethin' wrong?"

Lyric continued to smile. "Nah; I just wanted to have an excuse to come see you. You're not busy now, are you?" Her face moved closer to his. They were inches apart before Levi's fingers slid down her cheek and to her jaw as his lips kissed hers in a fragile touch.

Levi couldn't help himself; he added tender to the kiss as the sun started to beat down harder on them. Soon enough, his breath stuck to Lyric's face, like condensed fog hitting the medicine cabinet mirror after a hot, steaming shower. She held close to him, waiting for a response.

But she never got one. Instead, Levi led her to his car. It was a car of many memories of them together – their first kiss, their first fight. But most importantly, it was the car where they ended up making love on a Christmas night the year before.

She never got over that. Sometimes, she felt . . . _tacky_ for making love to him in the backseats of his car. She remembered her knees hitting the windows hard, her body struggling to find comfortable positions to make room for Levi. She remembered how his leg kicked the steering wheel, the horn blaring for a good five seconds in the midst of midnight. She remembered waking up in the passenger seat, recollecting her clothes to find a large mark on the seats.

Levi didn't care. He thought it was memorable to make love in that car. It was the car he spent day and night working on before Lyric came along and helped pitch in money to get it fixed at the auto shop. It was a special car, with good and bad memories of his relationship with Lyric. The stupid, ignorant fights they had over their dinner dates. The jokes they made after their long strolls at the beach. And the times when they kissed each other goodnight, before Levi watched Lyric intently walk up the stairs to her apartment she shared with her sister.

Now, they just sat in the backseat of his car. Lyric tilted her head onto his shoulder, as his arm moved around her neck. They watched through the glass as the skater boys twisted and turned around their girlfriends on their skateboards. They watched as little five year old boys lick melting ice cream off their hands. They observed as the batty old cat lady's kitten ran away from the St. Bernard dog that Ms. Jenkins owned.

Lyric smiled, taking in all that was happening. Levi lived in a vigorous neighborhood. There were lots of children, who used sleds to go down the hills during the winter or rode their bikes during the summer. There were nice people, yet also mean people – and there were people who really didn't care about anything. Levi loved his neighborhood. It was a haven for himself, his life, and no one else.

Levi turned to him, a smile drawn on her face. "Why are you so quiet today?" she inquired. She moved closer to him, playing with the curls on his head. His hair was a wonderland – she always played with it, especially when she was bored. Like at that moment.

He shrugged his shoulders casually, laying his head on her lap, kicking his feet up against the window of his car. He put a hand on her thigh, drumming his fingertips along the denim fabric of her jeans. "Why don't we go to dinner tonight?" he said thoughtfully, ignoring her question. Lyric didn't care; she liked it when he didn't answer her inquiries. Sometimes, she felt as if half the things she said to him consisted of rhetorical questions. This was one of those times.

She nodded, thinking back to if she had any plans. She had to walk her dog, Bleu, but she'd just make Melody walk her. "Sure, I'd love to," she answered.

He sat up, kissed her full on the mouth. A grin curled on the corner of his lips, he responded, "I love you."

_As Lyric spun around like a tornado to find her favorite pair of shoes, _she found Levi's old leather jacket – the one he wore on mostly all of their dates, until he decided to give it to her. ("Just something for you to remember me by if something happens," he had said calmly, in a soothing voice; he shrugged his shoulders, and wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. "Wear it, whenever you want me to be with you.")

She smiled as she sniffed it; the smell of Calvin Klein entered her body, running through her veins. It was the smell she sniffed on a regular basis; the smell of love. It was the smell of _Levi._ She put the jacket on her bed, grabbing the tube of lip gloss and applied it to her pink lips.

Suddenly, her sister Melody walked into her bedroom. "Another date with Levi?" she guessed, her eyebrows arched.

Lyric couldn't help but beam as she set the bottle of lip gloss down. "Yes," she whispered. "How do I look?" The one-shouldered dress she was wearing spun gently around her as she twirled in a half-circle for Melody to examine.

In approval, Melody smiled. "You look great." Her smile faded after a moment. "You seem . . . pretty damn serious about Levi, Lyric."

Her voice didn't sound convincing. When people told her that, they were optimistic – as if they expecting Levi and Lyric to last forever. The voice her sister had was . . . depressing. It wasn't a voice of happiness or approval at all.

Lyric turned to her, a frown on her face. "Yes . . . why?"

Melody sighed. "Just . . . be careful. Please."

**September 2007**

_I __told you what to do," Mark said tightly, his jaw clenching together as his perfect, white, lynx-like teeth grinded together. "Now do it."_

_ Levi's gaze stared into his friend's. His _friend._ How could his own friend tell him to do something so . . . sinful? Levi could never be forgiven; he knew it himself. But Mark was . . . mature, smart . . . He had everything Levi didn't. How could Levi just tell him no, and walk away? He wasn't like that. He had to respect Mark Loft to be somebody. Mark was the reason why Levi was the person he was; he couldn't back down._

_"When?" Levi whispered, lowering his gaze to the cement floor._

_The bitter laugh escaped Mark's mouth that formed an evil smirk. "Now."_

"_You're hanging out with him again?" _Melody groaned, rolling her brown eyes at her sister.

"What do you expect?" Lyric spat. "He's my boyfriend; I'm not just gonna sit around here, and just—"

She stopped short when there was a knock on the door. Melody left the room just as Levi entered the house. Lyric beamed, her eyes twinkling and brightening as he stepped forward.

But he didn't look happy. At all.

"You okay?" Lyric asked, hesitant they sat down. She had prepared pasta Bolognese for him, his favorite dish. She slowly poured him a glass of red wine as she put the rim of the glass to her lips, sipping the drink slowly.

Levi looked distracted. "Huh? Did you say something?"

Shakily, she exhaled a breath to herself as she smoothened out the non-existent wrinkles on her black shirt. She bit down on her lip, and then blinked fast into a small smile—a smile that even a distracted person, like Levi, could see right through. "N-no, it's nothing."

He scratched the back of his head, as he swirled the spaghetti with the tines of his fork. He chewed and swallowed and then eyed Lyric. "You know I love you, right?" he breathed, suddenly sounding . . . tired.

She lifted her eyes and a smile twitched on the corners of her mouth as she cleaned them with her napkin. She leaned forward and took his hand into hers, stroking it with the bottom of her thumb gently. "Of course," she answered quietly. "What's wrong? C'mon; you can tell me."

Levi shook his head, trying not to make eye contact. If he did, he would get lost in her eyes and nothing would go the way as planned; he knew that—he wasn't that stupid. "It's nothing." He paused. "Really."

Unconvinced, Lyric sat back in her seat.

The rest of the dinner Lyric thought was going to be all joyful, happy, and loving . . . turned out to be a total disaster.

_After they finished, _they watched a movie in awkward silence, sitting inches away from each other. Usually, they wouldn't pay attention to it; they would get lost with each other—tickling, giggling, loving—but tonight, they sat inches apart, their arms folded across their chest. The movie was a comedy, but neither even cracked a smile, let alone twitched. Just two statues.

After the movie, Lyric took a quick shower. And when she came back, Levi was actually—surprisingly—in a good mood. He got out two flukes of champagne and a box of Ferrero Rochier chocolates. They sat on a plaid blanket, on the parquet flooring, feeding each other chocolates while laughing.

"You have some . . . chocolate on your lip," Lyric giggled. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed it off, licking it off from her own lips.

Levi laughed, smiling at her. He fed her another chocolate, and laughed as she tried to throw it into his mouth—and he didn't catch it.

The two finished up, and cuddled up into each other. Levi put an arm around her as she lay down on top of him, her face dug into his tight torso. She ran her fingers on his chest, as he rubbed her arm with his gentle hand. "I love you," she whispered, her lips moving on the nape of his neck.

She felt his body tense up underneath hers. She rolled on top of him, her body pressing hard on his. He turned away from her, facing the black, blank television screen. Feeling unwanted, Lyric gently grabbed his face and made him look at her.

"What's wrong?" she said firmly. "Answer me!"

He grabbed her wrists, sitting up. His eyebrows knit together, he said through gritted teeth, "I do love you."

Before she knew it, his lips were connected to hers, pressing so firmly Lyric was surprised she wasn't bleeding. He bit her bottom lip, asking for an entrance to her mouth. She opened, letting his tongue explore it. He pushed her down, hard, on the couch, and groped her body with his hands. He put his hand roughly underneath her skirt, plucking at her panties.

Lyric's eyes shot open. What was he doing? He never touched her so . . . aggressively. He never did this to her. So why now?

She couldn't fight him off; he pinned her down, sucking the sweet skin of her neck as he ripped her underwear off. He trailed his lips down the skin of the curve of her breast.

She let out a pleading gasp for him to stop. She wriggled at his touch—the angry touch, the touch of a . . . of a _monster_. "Levi, stop!" she sobbed, feeling her hot tears mingle with the curls of his brown hair. She finally yanked him off of her, his blazing eyes vivid, wild. She slipped the underwear on, fixing her top and wiping the saliva of his mouth off her neck.

"What has gotten _into you_?!" she hissed, tears falling hard, like droplets of acid rain—burning, breaking her apart bit by bit. "Don't _ever_ touch me like that again!" She placed a shaky hand over her mouth, trying to cover her sobs. But they were too strong. She hunched her shoulders, crying into her lap.

"Lyric, I—"

"Don't," she snapped, "say you're sorry. Don't you _dare."_

Angry rushed through his body. It filled his blood, boiling and rushing through his veins. He clenched his fists until Lyric could see the whites of his knuckles. Before even blinking, he had her pinned down against the couch, his monster-like, wretched rough hands tightened around her neck.

He tightened his grip at every push, at every yank. He pushed her down with a loud thump, hearing the very last breath of his beloved Lyric.

She closed her eyes in a fragile move, her heart beating no more.

She was dead, and it was all his fault.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

**Present Day**

"She's not my type." Levi exhaled a much needed breath, pushing the photograph of the auburn-colored hair of the girl his brother, Lucas, showed him. He told him to go back and date, to live life, to be free, playful, fun . . . But Levi wasn't that anymore. He was a man with a deadly past, a past no man should ever live.

"Not your type?" Lucas scoffed. "Zoey is perfect. She's everything a guy could ever want. She's beautiful, passionate . . ."

"She's not Lyric," Levi exhaled to himself, looking down at his jeans. He pushed his cup of Starbucks coffee away from him, and bit down on his lip. He knew what Lucas was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it.

_Move on._

_It's been two years already, Levi._

_Forget the past and think about the future._

He had heard it all before, even if he didn't want to. Lucas was one to say to forget the past, yet he always ended up mentioning it. He didn't know the dreadful, crucial, unforgivable, _sinful_ thing Levi had done. They had told him that Lyric had just . . . died unexpectedly. Lucas was unconvinced, but he never questioned a single word. To everyone's eyes, Lyric Symphony was just . . . dead.

"Levi, move—"

"Don't," Levi snarled, narrowing his brown eyes together, furrowing his brows together. "Don't say it. Don't say move on. How can I move on? What I d—what happened to her was dreadful, Lucas," he said quickly, covering his words up fast enough for his brother not to notice his near mistake. "She was the love of my life. I can't just forget her."

Lucas sighed. "Then I don't know what to tell you, bro. But listen to me when I tell you—Zoey Richards is different. And she'll ease your pain."

For the first time in a while, Levi looked up and nodded—believing the words coming out of his brother's mouth. He wrote down the address and phone number on a napkin and stuffed it into his pocket.

Believing people was something Levi had stopped doing a long time ago. People fed lies to each other everyday; injecting them like heroin—the pain of it all was the same; making your body sore, making it numb enough for you to believe it until you saw the result . . . the result was guilt. It was shame. And to Levi, it the result was also death.

_Zoey Richards didn't seem half bad. _Her auburn, chestnut colored hair was pulled back into two braids. She was wearing a black beanie hat, denim cut-off shorts, fringe boots, a vintage Pink Floyd shirt, and a fringe messenger bag as her purse. She had a bright, unique smile and blue eyes the color of a clear sky on a summer day.

"You must be Levi," she said politely, sticking out a hand with neon pink colored nails. "I'm Zoey."

Levi slowly took her hand in his and shook it. He pulled away, digging both hands into his pockets. "It's nice to meet you," he said bluntly. He blinked, gesturing her to come into his apartment.

Slowly, as if afraid what might pop out at her, Zoey stepped in. Uneasy. She put her bag gently down on the leather couch and examined his tiny apartment.

"Sorry it's a bit messy," he interjected her thoughts. "I'm, uh, not one to clean often." He scratched the back of his head, breathing in and out unevenly.

"Oh no, it's okay." Zoey smiled at him, small dimples appearing. "I'm not the neatest person around either."

_I see that. _Levi gulped, licking his lips together. "Do you . . . want to go out to eat, or . . . stay in? I know a really good Chinese-Japanese restaurant that has great sushi . . . That is, if you like sushi," he said quickly.

Zoey didn't hesitate. "I love sushi! We could stay here—I'm not in a big mood to go out. Do you want to?"

He didn't, to be honest. He wanted to stay at home, alone, and sleep until he couldn't breathe any more. Instead, he nodded. "Sure," he answered. "We could stay here."

Levi called the restaurant, and made the orders—dumplings, California rolls, sushi, lo mien, and chicken and broccoli. When the food arrived, Zoey helped him with setting up the coffee table, where they sat on pillows.

Zoey set down her chopsticks and looked up with her round, doll-like blue eyes. "So tell me about yourself."

Using his chopsticks, he twirled the noodles of the lo mien and swirled them into his mouth. "What do you want to know?" he inquired thoughtfully.

"What school did you go to?"

Levi sipped his soda and then answered, "UCLA. I majored in English Literature. How about you?" He tried his best to look somewhat thoughtful, but he wasn't. All he could think of was what would Lyric say, if he saw him with another girl—eating Chinese takeout with chopsticks, the way they used it? _I'm a traitor,_ he thought to himself. _A no good, lying, selfish traitor. I deceived you, baby . . . And I need you back, and I love you . . . But you're gone, and it's my fault._

It took him a while to realize that she had answered him. "Huh? What did you say? Sorry—I-I blanked out."

Zoey's small smile faded. "I went to Brown."

"Oh. An Ivy League. That's very, um . . . impressive." Levi blinked. _This is hopeless. I'm not fit for dating again. I don't deserve anyone anymore. Not after what I did. I'm a killer, a monster . . . I'm nothing._

"I guess you could call it impressive. My father worked as a professor, so you can say I just hopped right in." She lifted her gaze up to Levi's. "Is something wrong?" she blurted out. "You seem so . . . distracted." She set her chopsticks down, pursing her lips together. "You don't want me here, do you?" she breathed, her voice like a gentle breeze in the bloom of spring.

"No!" Levi said too quickly. "It's nothing like that, _at all._ It's just . . . Lucas set me up on this date with you to get over my other girlfriend." He could feel the burning of his tears, glazing his eyes. They were at the edge of coming down; he blinked and they trickled down his face like droplets of rain on a glass-stained window. "She died two years ago." _And it was all my fault._

"Oh, Levi . . ." Zoey crawled to his side, putting an arm around him. She touched his curly locks in a soothing stroke. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Levi shrugged. "S'okay."

"No," she said firmly. "It's _not_ okay. You're hurt, and your heart is shattered. No one can fix it, Levi. I'm sorry to say this, but Lucas is wrong—you can't fix a broken heart no matter what."

Levi looked up, his eyes moist; his lips dry. He stared into her eyes for the longest of time. He watched her every move—how her lips quivered in worry, how her eyebrows were arched once her eyes widened. He felt his body shift, moving inches away from hers. He could feel the elevation of her chest against his.

Slowly, he kissed her bottom lip, taking in the sweet, innocent scent of honeysuckle. He inhaled as she kissed him back, putting her hand on the back of his neck, touching his curls. Levi touched the small of her back with the palm of her hand, inching her body closer to his.

A gasp escaped her lips as she pushed herself away. With a shaky hand, she gently touched her puffy lips. "Oh my god," she whispered, trembling. She got up on her feet before Levi could even blink. Zoey snatched her bag and made her way to the door.

"Zoey!" Levi called. He ran up to her, putting his hands into his pockets. "Did I . . . d-did I do something wrong?"

She sighed, her eyes round. "No, it wasn't you. It was me."

Levi leaned his head toward the right in confusion. "I don't understand," he exhaled.

She touched her upper arm with one hand, rubbing it slowly. She looked nervous as she lifted her gaze underneath her eyelashes. She batted them as she blinked, and bit down on her lower lip. "I can't kiss you, Levi." She clutched her fringed messenger bag and sighed. "You're a _really_ nice guy, believe me. But . . . the fact that you're girlfriend passed away and you're so . . . disconnected from the world because of it . . . we both don't deserve that."

"I don't understand," he repeated.

Zoey nodded, as if she understood him. "Fine. To make it easier . . . this won't work out." She grimaced, turned on her heel, and walked away.

"Two girls, Levi," he said to himself. "You can't keep them on a leash, can you?"

"_Willa, Nicky's calling for you!" _Mel called from the kitchen. There was a long pause and no answer. Huffing an impatient breath, she went to the bottom of the staircase. "WILLA! GET DOWN HERE!"

She waited and waited, and yet nobody came. Mel groaned, stomping her way up the stairs. She knocked hard on the door and waiting for her to come out with her hands on her hips, tapping one foot impatiently.

Willa opened the door, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. She moaned, "Just shut up already." She moved her heavy feet downstairs but wiped the frown off her face, exchanging it into a bright smile at the sight of her baby, Nick.

He clapped his hands happily in his highchair, slamming his spoon to the tray. His eyes met Willa's and he instantly giggled.

This was the reason she still smiled.

The only thing she shared with _him._


End file.
